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Authors: Matt Christopher
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“Play ball!”
Okay, he thought, he would play ball—but in the cool, green water of a swimming pool.
It didn't take long for the first few events to be run. The Bolton team held its own, and the scoreboard showed only a slight
lead for the Rams.
And then it was time for the boys hundred-yard freestyle.
“
Swimmers, please take your places
,” said the announcer.
Jerry was swimming in lane three, smack in the middle of the pool.
Maybe I'll get lost in all the splashing on either side, he thought for a second. Then, he caught himself. What kind of an
attitude is that? I'm going to be right in the thick of it and I'm going to give it all I can—for the team!
He climbed up on the starting block and shook loose some of the tension. Then he positioned himself for the dive.
Just four laps, he said to himself. Just four—but I have to pace them. And I have to remember everything I've learned.
“
On your mark … get set
… BANG!
At the sound of the gun, he sprang forth and dove into the water. He remembered to keep it shallow for a quick return to the
surface—and then to start his crawl immediately.
The lesson was well learned. Jerry could tell that he was right up there with the swimmers on eitherside by the time he was midway down the pool for the first lap.
And then he reached the end of the pool and went into his turn. It was swift and smooth—and quickly put him back on track
for the next lap.
In the distance, he could hear the noise of the crowd and the sound of the loudspeaker, but he paid no attention to it. Just
do everything you've learned, he kept saying to himself over and over.
He tried to ignore the Rams swimmers on either side. Still, he could tell that he had gotten a little bit ahead of both of
them.
For one second, it flashed through his mind that he might be the leader, that he might just win the event. But he quickly
slammed the door shut on that thought and kept up his stroke, nice and steady.
Going into the last lap, he was clearly ahead of the Ram swimmer in lane two by several lengths, and a little bit ahead of
the competing Ram in lane four. It was time to put on the steam.
Jerry took deep, measured breaths as he extended his arms in front of him, powerfully slicing his way through the water. In
careful, timed sequence, he kicked his legs, churning up a wake that helped topropel him forward faster and faster. With each stroke, he tried a little harder to go a little faster as the pressure within
his body expanded.
And then he felt the tips of the fingers on his right hand touch the tile at the end of the pool. The race was over.
For a second, Jerry expected to see the water filled with steam all around him. He gasped as he caught his breath, holding
on to the side of the pool. In the distance, he could just hear the announcer's voice.
“
The winner of the one-hundred-yard freestyle in lane five for the Bolton Blues was Ace Willoughby
—”
Ace! Good for him, thought Jerry, splashing some water on his face to cool off. That's one for the good guys!
“
In second place, also for the Blues, in lane three, was Jerry Grayson
.”
Another one for the Blues, hey, that's great, thought Jerry. Hey! Wait a minute! That's me! I came in second!
He leaped out of the pool and dashed over to the Blues bench. Ace was the first one to slap a high five on him.
“Nice going, slugger,” he said.
“Nice going, yourself,” said Jerry. He was almost as happy for Ace as he was for himself.
“Settle down, you two,” said the coach after he had congratulated all the guys who had just finished the hundred. “Rest up,
there isn't that much time until the two hundred.”
Jerry was really revved up now. For the first time, he felt the taste of success as a swimmer. Sure it was only a short race.
Sure it was his best stroke. But he still had placed in the top three—in the top two, for that matter. He knew he was headed
in the right direction.
But he settled
Okay, he thought, he would play ball—but in the cool, green water of a swimming pool.
It didn't take long for the first few events to be run. The Bolton team held its own, and the scoreboard showed only a slight
lead for the Rams.
And then it was time for the boys hundred-yard freestyle.
“
Swimmers, please take your places
,” said the announcer.
Jerry was swimming in lane three, smack in the middle of the pool.
Maybe I'll get lost in all the splashing on either side, he thought for a second. Then, he caught himself. What kind of an
attitude is that? I'm going to be right in the thick of it and I'm going to give it all I can—for the team!
He climbed up on the starting block and shook loose some of the tension. Then he positioned himself for the dive.
Just four laps, he said to himself. Just four—but I have to pace them. And I have to remember everything I've learned.
“
On your mark … get set
… BANG!
At the sound of the gun, he sprang forth and dove into the water. He remembered to keep it shallow for a quick return to the
surface—and then to start his crawl immediately.
The lesson was well learned. Jerry could tell that he was right up there with the swimmers on eitherside by the time he was midway down the pool for the first lap.
And then he reached the end of the pool and went into his turn. It was swift and smooth—and quickly put him back on track
for the next lap.
In the distance, he could hear the noise of the crowd and the sound of the loudspeaker, but he paid no attention to it. Just
do everything you've learned, he kept saying to himself over and over.
He tried to ignore the Rams swimmers on either side. Still, he could tell that he had gotten a little bit ahead of both of
them.
For one second, it flashed through his mind that he might be the leader, that he might just win the event. But he quickly
slammed the door shut on that thought and kept up his stroke, nice and steady.
Going into the last lap, he was clearly ahead of the Ram swimmer in lane two by several lengths, and a little bit ahead of
the competing Ram in lane four. It was time to put on the steam.
Jerry took deep, measured breaths as he extended his arms in front of him, powerfully slicing his way through the water. In
careful, timed sequence, he kicked his legs, churning up a wake that helped topropel him forward faster and faster. With each stroke, he tried a little harder to go a little faster as the pressure within
his body expanded.
And then he felt the tips of the fingers on his right hand touch the tile at the end of the pool. The race was over.
For a second, Jerry expected to see the water filled with steam all around him. He gasped as he caught his breath, holding
on to the side of the pool. In the distance, he could just hear the announcer's voice.
“
The winner of the one-hundred-yard freestyle in lane five for the Bolton Blues was Ace Willoughby
—”
Ace! Good for him, thought Jerry, splashing some water on his face to cool off. That's one for the good guys!
“
In second place, also for the Blues, in lane three, was Jerry Grayson
.”
Another one for the Blues, hey, that's great, thought Jerry. Hey! Wait a minute! That's me! I came in second!
He leaped out of the pool and dashed over to the Blues bench. Ace was the first one to slap a high five on him.
“Nice going, slugger,” he said.
“Nice going, yourself,” said Jerry. He was almost as happy for Ace as he was for himself.
“Settle down, you two,” said the coach after he had congratulated all the guys who had just finished the hundred. “Rest up,
there isn't that much time until the two hundred.”
Jerry was really revved up now. For the first time, he felt the taste of success as a swimmer. Sure it was only a short race.
Sure it was his best stroke. But he still had placed in the top three—in the top two, for that matter. He knew he was headed
in the right direction.
But he settled
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